


sink you down

by schweet_heart



Series: Merlin Fic [153]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blow Jobs, Boys Kissing, Childhood Friends, Coitus Interruptus, Dubcon Kissing, Episode Related, Episode: s01e10 The Moment of Truth, Friends With Benefits, Hand Jobs, Jealous Arthur, Jealousy, Love Bites, M/M, Making Out, Marking, Mildly Dubious Consent, Neck Kissing, Nipple Licking, Nipple Play, Oblivious Arthur Pendragon, Oblivious Merlin, Outdoor Sex, Pining Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Pining Merlin (Merlin), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Possessive Arthur, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-28 01:10:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16713682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schweet_heart/pseuds/schweet_heart
Summary: “Stop—saying—that—word,” Merlin ground out, and Arthur twisted his fist in retaliation, rough but so fucking good. “You’re not my friend.”“Then what am I,Merlin,” Arthur demanded, low in his ear. “What—am—I?”





	sink you down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [arthur_pendragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arthur_pendragon/gifts).



> Written for [this Kinks of Camelot prompt](https://kinksofcamelot.livejournal.com/1806.html?thread=354830): _during 110, merlin (who hasn't had any action since he came to camelot) accepts will's offer for a good ol' makeout sesh. (un)fortunately, arthur walks in on them._
> 
> Title from [If There Was No You](https://youtu.be/nHolyGQy0mU) by Brandi Carlile.
> 
>  **Content notes:** Contains possessive behaviour, marking, and mildly dubious consent (kissing/biting). Please read the tags and proceed accordingly.

   


Will kissed him out on the log by the old shack, the same place that Merlin had kissed him first when they were boys.

 

“I still—you know,” he said awkwardly, chucking a broken twig into the grass. His ruddy cheeks were dark, and he couldn’t seem to look Merlin in the eye. “I tried it on with Fanny Adams while you were gone, but it didn’t really work out.”

 

“Will…”

 

“No, hear me out.” Will turned towards him, belligerence pushing out his jaw and tightening his lips. “We were good together, you and me. I know it wasn’t—it’s not like you were in love with me, or anything. But I knew how to make you feel good, didn’t I? Better than _he_ does, I reckon.”

 

He didn’t have to specify who he was referring to; Merlin could already feel his cheeks getting hot, the tips of his ears burning as he ducked his head. “Am I that obvious?”

 

Will snorted. “Only to any man with eyes.” He looked across at Merlin, his dark gaze sobering as he studied Merlin’s face. “You can’t go on like this, Merls, panting after a prince who’ll never give you the time of day. It’ll fuck with your head. Trust me, I know.”

 

“It’s not _like_ that,” Merlin protested, but he was fighting a losing battle, and he knew it. “ _Arthur’s_ not like that.”

 

“Arthur’s just like the rest of them,” Will retorted with a scowl. “You heard him. Coming in here and telling us we need to fight, like that thought never would have occurred to us. He’s only in it for the glory—he doesn’t care about Ealdor at all.”

 

Merlin’s conscience bristled weakly; he knew that Arthur cared a great deal, and not just because this village used to be his manservant’s home. But he could see from the look on Will’s face that he wasn’t ready to listen, so he just sighed, leaning across the space between them and pressing their lips together.

 

“I don’t want to talk about him,” he said, and Will made an approving noise, hands coming up to gently bracket Merlin’s cheeks. “I don’t want to talk at all, can we—just—”

 

“Yeah,” Will murmured. “Yeah, all right, let me—”

 

Will’s kisses were the same as always, brash and clumsy, only tender as an afterthought, but if Merlin closed his eyes he could imagine he was with Arthur anyway; an Arthur who had never kissed anyone before, perhaps, his mouth hard and eager against Merlin’s own, hands brushing up and down Merlin’s tunic before sliding greedily against bare skin.

 

He kept his eyes open. When Will pulled his shirt off over his head, Merlin followed suit, letting out a low grunt of approval as Will’s mouth found the juncture of his neck and began to suck. His cock was growing hard, filling slowly as Will’s hands dipped below his waist, and he was about to suggest that they move this to a more horizontal position when the sound of someone clearing their throat behind them made him jump.

 

“There you are,” said Arthur in a frigid voice. He had his arms folded, his eyes narrowed to slits as Merlin pulled away from Will with a gasp. “Your mother said I might find you out here.” If possible, his voice became even colder, his gaze drifting across to Will. “She didn’t tell me you had company.”

 

“We were just,” Merlin began, but Will cut across him.

 

“What’s it to you?” he asked, one hand tightening where it rested on Merlin’s hip. The other was already inside his breeches, fingertips resting on his cock, and Merlin hastily moved away, his cheeks flaming as Arthur’s attention strayed downwards. Will hardly seemed to notice. “He’s not your lap-dog, _sire_. Merlin can do what he likes.”

 

“So it would seem.” Arthur’s tone was glacial, his expression magnificent in its disdain. He turned towards Merlin, dismissing Will with a single look, and said peremptorily, “Put your shirt back on. I want to go over some of our plans for tomorrow.”

 

“I—”

 

“He’s not going anywhere,” Will said, straightening up. “We’re busy.”

 

Arthur ignored him. “Merlin?”

 

“I—” Merlin looked at the prince, then back at Will, who was glaring daggers at Arthur from his position on the log. His shaggy brown hair was mussed where Merlin had gripped it, his lips red and slightly swollen from kissing, and at the sight of them Merlin’s cock gave a traitorous little twitch inside his smalls. It _had_ been a long time since he’d got his leg over. “Can’t it wait until later?”

 

“No.” Moving stiffly, Arthur picked up Merlin’s top and shoved it at him, gesturing for him to put it on. Then, seemingly as an afterthought, he picked up Will’s shirt and chucked it at him as well, somewhat harder than Merlin thought was strictly necessary. It hit him in the face. “We won’t have time later, I’ve promised Hunith we’ll help get the children out of the village. Up you get.”

 

Reluctantly, Merlin dressed himself, avoiding the blistering heat of Will’s angry stare, and as soon as he was decent Arthur took hold of him by one arm, proprietary, dragging him towards the forest and not looking back. Merlin barely had time for one last glance at Will, furious and somehow forlorn atop the hollow tree, before the canopy closed about them and he was hidden from view by a curtain of leaves.

 

“I’ll see you later!” Merlin called, trying to sound confident, although he doubted he would. “I’m sorry!”

 

If Will had anything to say in return, they were too far away to hear.

  


+

  


Arthur’s silence was implacable as they walked—or more accurately, stomped—through the trees in the direction of the village, his feet finding every twig on the forest floor and grinding it to dust with a vicious _crack-crack-crack_ beneath his boots.

 

“We’re not—” Merlin said finally, stumbling a little in the prince’s wake. “It’s not a serious thing. We’re best friends. We were just fooling around.”

 

“No, _we’re_ best friends.” Arthur gestured between the two of them without turning his head. “Or at least, I thought we were. Best friends don’t do— _that_.”

 

Maybe it was the scorn in his voice, or perhaps the unyielding grip he still had on Merlin’s forearm, but all of a sudden Merlin reached the limits of his patience. With a huff of annoyance, he stopped walking and yanked himself free, his frustration boiling over. “ _That_ was called kissing, you pillock, in case you weren’t aware,” he said, glaring at the back of Arthur’s head and rubbing at his arm. “And if you weren’t such a pampered—spoiled—if you weren’t so much of a _prince_ sometimes, then you’d know that occasionally best friends do, in fact, _do that_.”

 

Arthur had stopped walking. “Do they,” he said, and there was something about his tone that made Merlin’s confidence falter, just a bit.

 

“Well—yes?” he said, his voice rising slightly at the end. “I mean, I do. With Will. Obviously.”

 

“Obviously,” Arthur repeated. He stood there for a moment before turning, and Merlin felt something in his stomach give way when he saw the expression on his face. “Well, in that case.” He was stalking forward now, using the same quick, measured strides that he employed while hunting game, and Merlin scrambled backwards until he hit the trunk of a tree, fingernails scraping at the bark until it came away in his hands. “So what if I were to—for example—” He leaned in closer, bracing himself on either side of Merlin’s head, “—do this…?” His mouth grazed Merlin’s ear, trailing along his neck. “Or this?” He found the place where Will had sucked and bit down hard, and Merlin jerked, mouth falling open in astonishment even as he groaned. “Would that be _friendly_ enough for you?”

 

“ _Arthur_.” Merlin was dreaming. He had fallen off the log and hit his head, and this was all some kind of cruel, incredible dream. “What are you doing?”

 

“Kissing,” Arthur said dangerously, his nose against Merlin’s throat. “In case you weren’t aware.”

 

It was utterly unlike the way things had been, back in the clearing. Merlin was hard already, dizzy with it, and Arthur hadn’t even touched his mouth. He turned his head blindly to fit their lips together, and Arthur let him, let Merlin twine his arms around his shoulders and clutch his hair. Kissed him back, even, not slow and uncertain as Merlin had half expected but full of purpose, pushing him up against the tree until Merlin was certain he’d carry the imprint of it against his back until the day he died.

 

“Arthur,” he panted, hooking one leg up over Arthur’s thigh to pull him closer still. Arthur went, fitting against him like a second skin, and Merlin spared a moment to be thankful that he’d left his chainmail at home—at _Merlin’s_ home, where Arthur was staying. It still seemed like a dream.

 

Arthur’s hands were on his tunic, knotting into fists in the folds at his hips, his breathing harsh in the stillness of the woods. Instead of tugging it off, however, he leaned down and mouthed at one of Merlin’s nipples through his shirt, sucking until the fabric went dark and stuck to the skin, until Merlin squirmed and begged for him to stop.

 

“Tell me I’m your friend now,” Arthur said, scraping his teeth over the abused teat. “Tell me I’m your _only_ friend, _Mer_ lin, say it.”

 

“Fuck you,” Merlin breathed, but Arthur just laughed and moved on to the second nipple, laving at it until it was good and wet, the fabric warm and raspy on Merlin’s chest like the tongue of a cat. “Fuck you so much, Arthur, _fuck_ —”

 

“Not this time.” Arthur tweaked at one aching nub, and Merlin swore. “This time I just—I just want to—”

 

He moved on without finishing his sentence, fumbling at Merlin’s belt until he could tug his breeches down. Merlin let him. He leaned against the tree trunk, ass bare, struggling to stay upright as Arthur freed his own cock from its confines, and it should have been ridiculous—two grown men with their cocks out in the middle of the woods; it should have been a joke. Instead, Merlin’s eyes were glued to the flushed head of Arthur’s erection, the shy thatch of dark gold hair nestled between his legs. Arthur was hard. Arthur _wanted_ him—enough for this, anyway, enough to pick up where Will left off. To fuck him like a secret.

 

Arthur’s mouth was bitten red, redder than berries. “Is this what you want, Merlin?” he whispered into Merlin’s hair, moving in close again and spitting into his palm. His hand on Merlin’s cock was hot and only slightly slick, but Merlin arched into it, keening, desperate for his touch. “A friendly hand on your—on your friendly prick? A friendly fuck in the woods?”

 

“Stop—saying—that—word,” Merlin ground out, and Arthur twisted his fist in retaliation, rough but so fucking good. “You’re not my friend.”

 

“Then what am I, _Mer_ lin,” Arthur demanded, low in his ear. “ _What_ — _am_ — _I?”_

 

Merlin climaxed without answering, without saying anything at all, his face pressed into the crook of Arthur’s neck and come spattering the forest floor between them. Arthur’s free hand stroked his hair, his neck, gentling him as Merlin trembled through the aftershocks, only to fall away as Merlin shoved him backwards, scrubbing at his cheeks.

 

“Don’t you know?” he asked, his voice breaking. Arthur’s eyes were bluer than he had ever seen them, wide and shocky, the lashes spiky and wet. He looked so utterly absurd with his trousers around his ankles, so absolutely gorgeous as he fought to catch his breath. Sunlight filtered through the branches, birds wittering in the trees, and the two of them stared at each other in silence for a long moment, waiting.

 

“Let me show you, then,” Merlin said, dropping to his knees in the dirt.

 

He didn’t know how to say the words.

  



End file.
